Playing With Fire
by Munchen94
Summary: The gang are having a cheeky little celebration at the safehouse when Hoxton goes out for a quick smoke break. Clover is bored and joins him. With alcohol flowing and some time alone, the two thieves finally get a chance to let off some steam. It's a good thing Hoxton has a penchant for playing with danger.


"I didn't know you smoked?"

Hoxton tilts his head back against the brickwork, looking up to the window directly above him. Clover leans on the ledge, chin in her hands, watching the tipsy man stand alone in the cold.

"I only smoke when I've had a few," with a bit of a drunken smile, he goes for another drag of his cigarette. "And I've certainly had a few. I didn't know you didn't?"

"Yeah, well I quit last year some time. Couldn't be bothered to deal with 'em, y'know?"

Hoxton shrugs. "Fair enough."

He turns back to the street, pondering his smoke as the safehouse behind him rumbles with life. It's a bit rowdy in there tonight; spirits are high and drinks are flowing. There isn't much reason for celebration in particular, but at the same time there's no real reason _not_ to let your hair down every once in a while. Hoxton himself was joining in, discussing the footie with Bonnie and Jimmy, when he decided to have a smoke.

"Oi, spare us a fag," Clover catches his attention again, pestering him like a child. Hoxton remembers his father doing impressions of the young Irish children on the streets of Dublin during _The Troubles_ and smirks to himself. They were innocent and cheeky, but with an underlying sense of '_I'll kick your head in, given the chance_'... Just like the young lass above him.

It must be an Irish thing.

"So much for quittin', eh?" He takes one more from his box and throws it up to the first floor window his colleague protrudes from, and with almost rehearsed ease she catches it as it reaches its peak. She waits for him to throw his lighter to her also. Upon no implement, she asks him for one.

"Uhh… How am I supposed to light this?"

Hoxton steps into the street and turns to face her - Hands on his hips and silly grin on his face, he does a rather unflattering impression. "UHHH HOY AM OI S'PPERSED T' LOIT DIS?"

"Oh, it's like that, is it?" Her mouth curls into a smile. "Alright you cheeky shite, I'll fuckin' spark you out!"

"Why don't you come try me, y' slag?" He shoots his arms out to either side, egging her on. Her smile grows to a full-on grin as she disappears from sight. Hoxton simply turns around and leans back against the wall. She'll arrive in a few seconds and he'll have to defend himself - She playfights rougher than some of the guys in there can _fistfight_ \- but until then he's got plenty of time to…

THWACK BUM BADUMBADUMBADUMDUMDUMDUM CRASH

The unmistakable sound of someone falling down a staircase cuts everyone from their merriment. The house inhabitants all look to one another in drunken surprise, Wolf stands up and pokes his head around the doorway to witness a sight he'd never seen before. Clover lies on her back, legs still trailing up the staircase and a pained grimace on her face.

"Fuckin 'ell…" she murmurs to herself, sitting up to hold her ankle. Realising she's otherwise fine, Wolf bursts into laughter - This in turn causes the whole gang to gather round and laugh heartily, with Wolf and Chains helping the young thief up and helping her limp to a nearby stool.

Clover walks through the gate to meet her old friend. He meets her with a bemused face, trying to suppress laughter. She smacks his shoulder. "Fuck off,"

"What was all that about? I thought you were supposed to be the _'daintiest ting on two feet'_?" Hoxton imitates her with surprising accuracy, eliciting a reluctant smirk from the lass.

"I thought you were supposed to… be… Not a twat?"

Hoxton laughs aloud, his façade finally giving way to that poor attempt at a comeback. "God's sake, what am I supposed to do with you?"

"You can light me bloody fag, for a start," she reaches behind her ear to pull out her gift, only to find it snapped in half from the fall. He chuckles to himself once more, pulling a fresh one from his box again. She snatches it with a pout and lights it, flicking the lighter back at him in such a way he has to catch it as it flies past his face.

"What's up with you? You on the blob or something?" The remark earns him yet another elbow in his ribs, but he acts like it didn't definitely hurt.

"I only went arse over tit, didn't I? Made a bloody fool of myself,"

"Ah, it's alright. You've been with us for how long now? Two years? It's about time you made a prat of yourself." Clover doesn't react much to this, she just takes another drag. Not bothered enough to try and press the matter, Hoxton simply leans back again and finishes his cigarette. He flicks his now-cold end into the closest gutter and the two stand in silence for a minute. He can see her looking over to him, eyeing him with all the subtlety of a grenade. He can feel some kind of accusation brewing, he's known her long enough to spot the signs when she's in a mood.

"The fuck are you still out here for? You done, ain't you?"

"Aye, I am. Just thought you could use some company."

She hesitates, trying to think of some way to turn that against him. "Some company?"

"Yeah, it's a tad boring out here on your own," He calmly states, stretching out with a yawn before his hands greedily seek the refuge of his pockets once more. "Besides, it's always good form to look out for your apprentices…"

Clover coughs into laughter, dropping her cigarette on the floor. "Apprentice? Since when have I been yer feckin' _apprentice_?" She looks at him with amused incredulity.

"Oh, I dunno, since you tried to swindle me and I graciously decided _not_ to kick your head in?"

"You're still harping on about that, are you?" Clover bends down to pick up her cigarette again, springing back up and getting right in his face. "James Jimmy Jimsworth, I am _not_ your underling… If anything, you're _**my**_ underling!"

The two share a laugh, albeit maybe for different reasons. They chat together for a while, going back in for another drink and right back out again for more cigarettes. As the night progresses, they find themselves a little more than tipsy, a little hoarser than before. A few others join them for periods, but rarely find there much to do out in the cold before going back in. As the night turns to morning, music is silenced and criminals find themselves growing tired, the little party dies down.

"Right, I'm probably gonna call it a night." Hoxton claps his hands together, the unmistakable British sign for 'Bugger this, I'm off'.

"Aye, I should probably head off 'n' all," Clover stands up from the wall, flicks her final smoke to the gutter and stretches. Hoxton goes to do the same, but stumbles a little. He's not all that much of a rum drinker, it's hit him harder than expected. She notices his impaired balance, and with a slur to her voice confronts him. "You alright finding your way home, old man?"

"I dunno, perhaps you could help me find it?" The lazy wink strips the sentence of all innocence, but Clover hesitates - which in turn catches his attention. He chuckles.

"You're not actually thinking about it, are you?"

"No!" She laughs, face turning red.

"Jesus, Rochelle... You're not _that_ drunk, are ya?"

"Not at all, you're just a lecherous old twat!" Clover smacks his arm and turns to head back inside, doing her best to hold back her laughter.

"Oi," Hoxton places a hand on her shoulder and spins her back round.

He takes one hand and cups her cheek, swiftly bringing her closer into a kiss. Rigid at first, she quickly melts into his arms with the alcohol in her veins stripping her of inhibitions. The smell of his fancy aftershave, mixed with god-awful amounts of cigarette smoke and spiced rum, make for a strange combination - one that she can't quite pretend not to enjoy. Clover slips her hands under his open jacket and hook around his back, yanking him back toward the wall they've spent the night against. He frees one hand from her shoulder to prop himself against the brickwork and grins to himself.

She moans softly as their embrace deepens, her tongue finding his own. It's been years since they had their first 'encounter', one of the biggest factors to her departure from his tutelage. It was a bit of a drunken rumble, partially stress relief, and a perfect opportunity to steal the keys from his pocket… but as much as it was purely business, he'd occupied her mind ever since. Nobody had been able to keep up with her like he could, no other man was able to withstand her flaws and heavy-handedness with such laid-back ease. She'd not even noticed how patient he was with her until Sydney had pointed it out, she gets away with things that'd earn anyone else a thorough beating. Her abrasiveness had meant other men would always keep her at arm's length, if not completely put them off.. But Hoxton seemed to thrive on it. He'd take each seething insult and sling one right back at her. She liked that in a man. To fresh eyes, they'd appear to be a poor match. But as Dallas knew, they worked well together. And as Sydney and Wolf had picked up on, they both shared an admiration that neither would openly admit to.

Their kiss lasts but a minute before he pulls back to reality, his lips leave hers to the cold air and their eyes meet. Hoxton's face is curled into a crooked smirk, her mouth slightly open in wanting. He goes to speak, but her harsh voice cuts him off before the words can even formulate.

"Jim, I'm drunk, pissed off and horny. If you do so much as _think_ of a witty remark I'll bite you,"

Hoxton suppresses a chuckle. He actually did have a witty remark lined up. "How about you shut me up then?"

A wry smile flashes across her face before going in for another kiss. _He's such a twat._ This embrace is much shorter, interrupted by a hand roughly grabbing his belt and shoving him back a bit.

"I swear to Christ this had better be worth my time," Clover takes a step towards the door and begins to pulls him by his clothing to the privacy of her room, but not before she stops and gives him one last warning. "And if any of the others find out about this - I'm not joking - I will _fucking_ murder you."

"That's a risk I'm more than willing to take, love" and with a frankly dangerous slap to her butt, he leads the two indoors again.


End file.
